


Deer in Your Headlights

by CitrusVanille



Series: Video Killed the Radio Star [4]
Category: McFly
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Accidental sex tape, M/M, Pre-Slash, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-30
Updated: 2008-10-30
Packaged: 2019-03-04 23:34:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusVanille/pseuds/CitrusVanille
Summary: "You were - before the show - you were recording-"





	Deer in Your Headlights

“You – did you just wank to – were you watching –” Harry can’t seem to get a sentence out, but Tom really just wishes he would stop trying, stop staring, go back out the door and pretend this never happened. Or at least go away long enough for Tom to pull his boxers and jeans back up, maybe wash his hand, get his head back on straight enough to come up with some kind of explanation.

“Could you – could you maybe just –” Tom really can’t think like this, needs Harry to at least just _turn around_ and stop fucking _staring_. He wipes his hand off on his shirt – it’s ruined anyway – and tries to tug his boxers up without being too obvious about it. Harry _really_ needs to stop staring.

“You were – before the show – you were _recording_ –” Harry’s still having trouble with his words, but it’s clearly not actually a question.

Tom can feel the heat in his face – knows he’s bright red now his blood flow is returning to normal. He’s not sure when Harry came in, how much he saw, isn’t sure he wants to know, isn’t sure he doesn’t. He wishes Harry would stop staring – he still hasn’t and doesn’t he even need to fucking _blink_? – wishes the floor would open up, swallow him and the chair – leave no evidence he was ever here. He’s not sure how he could possibly have been stupid enough to forget he was sharing with Harry tonight. How he could have been stupid enough to get himself off in the middle of a hotel room instead of locking himself in the toilet – in the shower as an extra precaution – stupid enough to get off to the video at all. And Harry _knows_ what the video is – has obviously been here long enough for that. Tom fights himself to keep from trying to sink as low as possible in his chair. This can’t possibly get any worse, he thinks, but he refuses to just curl up and die of shame.

There’s the sudden recorded sound of another door slamming from the floor. Tom jerks, looks down at the camera, and his eyes go wide. “Oh, fuck, no,” he breathes, and the sounds now coming from the tiny satanic machine are soft, but clear, and there’s no mistaking what they are.

“Is that –” Harry’s voice is choked, but Tom can’t move, stares in frozen horror at the deceptively blank screen while the sounds of him getting himself off in the closet echo tinnily in the silence of the hotel room.


End file.
